Im There
by WildWaterfall
Summary: Anna is a dirty little secert. Everyone thinks shes dead. Her grandmother and aunt are keeping it that way by locking her in an abandoned masion in the snowfilled mountains of Colorado.


I'm There.

By, Wild waterfall

Hello my name is Anna and this is well I guess this is my diary or whatever but I'm not into that Dear Diary crap. So here I go um well I'm thirteen and I live in the mountains of Colorado. I love to Dance and Horseback ride. My mother died eight years ago and my father committed heartbroken suicide. I live with my grandmother and my psychotic aunt. Life is dull here and there is no one around for miles. I haven't actually scene another person for years. It snows three seasons of the year here. I like to paint as well. I know this really isn't a organized diary but oh well. The house I live in is huge and empty. I spend tons of time exploring the hundreds of vacant rooms filled with furniture collecting dust. I only use about three of the rooms. I have a bedroom and a bathroom. I also use the living room slash kitchen.

My Aunt Camile and my Grandmother are only in here once in a while. They wont let me in the basement and keep it locked. They stay in a smaller cozy home about a quarter mile away from my abandoned home. They spend most their time at stupid social parties or in my basement. They never take me anywhere. I'm like their dirty little secret. Everyone thinks I'm dead. That's right eight years ago after my mother died of a painful sickness that caused her skin and muscle to rot my father killed himself. My grandmother claimed that my father, her son-in-law, killed me as well. She locked me in my aunts room. For days she beat and burned me. I screamed for help until my voice gave out and the screams turned into slight gasps. I still have nightmares and scars from those torturous days.

There is no heating, plumbing or electricity in my house. I stay warm using all the blankets I can find but sometimes not even that is enough. I get supplies every two weeks from my grandmother. I constantly dream of what the world is like. I don't have a TV or radio and I don't get a newspaper. My life is completely shut out and empty. I have many fantasy books and lately I have realized that I want that I want a prince charming. But even I know those are just fairy tales.

Its mid summer and the grass is green. My life goes on day by day. Its not easy to always be alone. I want friends and love but all I have is a old teddy bear I found. Sometimes I walk around in the dresses that I found in some of the old rooms. The days don't bother me but when the sunsets my nerves and imagination go on a frenzy. Some times I think I hear screams from the basement or creaks in the stairs. I curl up in a corner in my room. I cry myself to sleep almost every night. The thought of being helpless and defenseless haunted my thoughts when the sun goes down.

This is my routine that I follow every day. I wake up in the corner of my room, I get up and unlock my door, I walk down the main staircase and sometimes pretend to be a princess attending a ball. Than I walk into the kitchen and rummage threw it looking for something to eat, then if I find something I eat at the table. Then my day changes with my mood, I either explore, Pretend to be in one of the books I read, Write this diary, or lay on the floor and dream. I love to dream and do it quiet often. I dream about schools and friends, love and mystery, and most of all my mother. I miss her so much. I cry every time I think of her exspecailly at night when I need her the most.

I still remember when she died. I remember feeling her go cold, I remember her pain, her face, her tears. It haunts me, it will always haunt me. I see her in my dreams, I relive her pain every night, I force myself to hoping that it will force me to be with her again. Some people would call that sucidal but I never do anything more than relive it in my mind. Even though Im just reliving it I still feel the pain. I remember watching my father put a bullet into his head, watching him fall to the ground after the shot, the blood running out of his head and mouth. He shot himself right above his right ear. But out of all of it what I remember the most is the tears, the internal uncureable pain.


End file.
